Song of Nightingale

“Why do we suffer?” is one of the most human of queries. Without fail, we tend to ask the question in the 1st person: “Why me?”  But what about the 3rd? “Why they?” Why is it always the greedy varlet that winds up blessed with superb health and abundant wealth, and the meek tiller of a barren field who dies bent by a life of toil and hardship? Let’s venture even further. Why have the most saintly and noble to have ever trodden this earth suffered far more than most of us puny mortals bewailing our plight? Where is the justice and fairness in that? Surely it can’t be because they deserved it. So what right do we have to think our lot is a punishment from God?

Indeed, the mark of a true prophet is suffering. And not just any kind of suffering, but the devastating kind that targets your loved ones, destroys your body and gives you a rude reminder that you are really nothing but a spit bowl for the rich and powerful. Perhaps none more than the great prophets have experienced first-hand and unabated the most brutal aspects of humanity and yet remained utterly unwavering, till their hour of death, in their inspirational call upon man to do only that which is good, noble and enlightened. And doing it with a passion too. Moses was an orphan and an exile hunted by his oppressors. Jesus was an impoverished vagabond ridiculed as a fatherless child and ultimately executed. Muhammed was driven out of his home into the desert and a war was brought on him and his loved ones for simply believing in God.

Despite their ability to attract masses, well-fed gurus basking in admiration within the safety of their extravagant ashrams, honey-tongued opportunists inviting generous donations by abusing religious sentiment, privileged eccentrics selling self-help books with a fluffy spiritual philosophy, and inspirational preachers flying their learjets betwixt jam-packed stadiums, simply won’t compare. True prophets, in the annals of world history, are a mere handful. But they do exist. And what’s little short of amazing: the moral message of their recorded teachings is near-identical. “You, my friend, are much more than meets the eye. Know that, grow up and beat the odds!”

The greatest inspiration has ever come from those that overcame all odds, remained unbending in doing good and refused to shirk in their commitment to high-minded ideals even in the face of violent persecution and torture. Perhaps that is why it is the greatest souls amongst us that have suffered the most. Nothing less would inspire the rest of us to transcend ourselves.

“Know ye that trials and tribulations have, from time immemorial, been the lot of the chosen Ones of God and His beloved, and such of His servants as are detached from all else but Him, they whom neither merchandise nor traffic beguile from the remembrance of the Almighty, they that speak not till He hath spoken, and act according to His commandment. Such is God’s method carried into effect of old, and such will it remain in the future. Blessed are the steadfastly enduring, they that are patient under ills and hardships, who lament not over anything that befalleth them, and who tread the path of resignation.” (Bahá’u’lláh, The Summons of the Lord of Hosts, p. 204)

It is, paradoxically, easier to believe in the goodness of man and the underlying oneness of all humanity when it is proclaimed by someone who has undergone torture, banishment and 40 years of imprisonment without losing faith in these ideals. Since childhood Bahá’u'lláh had earned a reputation as the compassionate and prodigal son of Mírzá Buzurg, a well-respected minister serving at the Sháh’s court. His was a silken life of luxury and privilege. At the age of 27 he did the unimaginable. He ceased to be a Shí’ah Muslim and became a follower of the Báb. By declaring as a Bábi he forsook all chances of a comfortable life paved for him by the powers-that-be. Even before accepting the Báb he had, at 22 years of age, declined an offer from the Prime Minister to advance a ministerial career at the Sháh’s court. Instead he had chosen to consecrate his home to helping the poor of Tehran with his wife Ásiyyih Khánúm. One of the rooms in his large mansion was transformed into a ward for tending sick women and children. The couple had earned the twin-titles “the Father of the Poor” and “the Mother of Consolation.” Ásiyyih Khánúm, a woman of great beauty and grace, came from one of the richest families of Persia. Yet their life of comfort and security was not to last. In Tehran, upon receiving a letter from Mullá Husayn containing some verses of the Báb, Bahá’u'lláh spontaneously embraced the Báb’s Message and became one of his most ardent and influential followers due to his high social standing. He went forthwith, on a horseback, to spread the Báb’s message in his native district in northern Persia, fully aware of the perils with which such a mission was fraught. He attracted many new fervent followers and roused the ire of the fanatical Shí’ah clergy. He was arrested.

Bahá’í Prisoners

Bahá’u'lláh was paraded bare-footed through the streets of Tehran to his prison-dungeon and pelted with stones by the angry crowds on the roadsides. He was thrown into the dungeon of Siyáh-Chál with a 100-pound chain placed on his neck and stocks put on his feet. The Siyáh-Chál, “The Black Pit”, was a former sewage reservoir turned into an underground prison. It was basically a deep underground tunnel, housing some 150 prisoners including 30 Bábis, which had only one outlet. It was so narrow and low that only sitting in a crouching position was possible. Many died in the prison. Much heavier chains were placed on Bahá’u'lláh’s shoulders than on the other prisoners. His chains were known by the names Qará-Guhar and Salásil. During his four-month stay in the pitch-black and filthy dungeon, the chains left a permanent imprint on his stature and cut into his flesh.

The Sháh and the ministers expected Bahá’u'lláh to die in the Black Pit under the weight of his chains. The mother of the Sháh in particular was insisting on Bahá’u'lláh’s immediate execution. According to some reports the Sháh was worried about more prominent martyrs inciting fresh support to Bábism. Prince Dolgorukov from the Russian Legation intervened on Bahá’u'lláh’s behalf, owing to Bahá’u'lláh’s excellent reputation as a man of virtue. Prince Dolgorukov is reported to have told the Persian authorities in no uncertain terms that Bahá’u'lláh is not be harmed or Persia shall hear from Russia. As a consequence, the death sentence was not carried out and the Siyáh-Chál sentence was interrupted after four months of stay.

Instead, Bahá’u'lláh was banished from the country and ordered to live under house arrest and imprisonment for the remainder of his life. He was to remain under incarceration in some of the most forbidding places in the Ottoman Empire, far away from “bewitching” any more Persians. Prince Dolgorukov offered refuge in Russia which Bahá’u'lláh cordially refused. The British offered refuge when Bahá’u'lláh was in Baghdad and later the French offered him assistance whilst he was in Adrianople, which were also politely turned down.

Until the end of his earthly journey, Bahá’u'lláh was adamantly reluctant to exchange his claim — that he had brought a new message of unity and brotherhood from God — for personal freedom or temporal ascendancy. Neither did he allow persecution or confinement to shackle his inner freedom. No amount of torture could corrode his faith in the underlying goodness of man.

Why should we then let lesser disappointments shake ours?

“O SON OF MAN! My calamity is My providence, outwardly it is fire and vengeance, but inwardly it is light and mercy. Hasten thereunto that thou mayest become an eternal light and an immortal spirit. This is My command unto thee, do thou observe it.” (Bahá’u'lláh, The Hidden Words, Part I Arabic, #51)

“O SON OF MAN! For everything there is a sign. The sign of love is fortitude under My decree and patience under My trials.” (Bahá’u'lláh, The Hidden Words, Part I Arabic, #48)

“If religion becomes the cause of enmity and bloodshed, then irreligion is to be preferred. For religion is the remedy for every ailment, and if a remedy should become the cause of ailment and difficulty, it is better to abandon it.” - ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (1844-1921)

My sister lives in Norway with her family right in the outskirts of Oslo. The whole nation is slowly recovering from the terror attacks that occurred in Oslo on 22 July 2011. 77 people, mostly youth gathered at a summer camp, were gunned down in cold blood. Anders Behring Breivik, the shooter, is a self-identified Christian and an Islamophobe, but by doing so he makes a mockery of the noble name of Christ.

We are living in an age where mankind is painfully learning the evils of particularistic creeds, ones that elevate one particular group of people (whether religious, racial, national, gender, or social class) over another. Such creeds breed prejudice and conflict. What happened in Norway a year ago is just another disturbed person who embraced such a creed – one of far-right Christian fundamentalism. Exclusivist salvation doctrines embraced by millions of good faithfuls transform in the hands of a fanatic into a hate-creed. It is not enough to develop early-warning systems to detect the psychological cues among the populace pointing to violent behaviour. It is equally, if not more essential, to uproot such man-made creeds and doctrines from the face of the earth. Occasionally it may even require some theological self-cleanup within major salvationist world religions. God does not breed conflict but unity. If anything, Oneness is one of His names.

“The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens” – Bahá’u'lláh

Ultimately the most powerful means to fight prejudice is education — starting from home. Educating our children to become genuine world-citizens and to recognize the progressive revelation of God in every great religion, without any claim to exclusivity and finality regarding one’s own brand of truth. Ironically, the greatest and the most barbaric terrorist attack on European soil has now been perpetrated by a Christian fundamentalist and not by an Islamist (albeit this record may still change). Both creeds make a mockery of the noble truths enshrined in the Holy Bible and the Holy Qur’án. Both blaspheme against the God of Christianity and of Islám.

The notion that ‘I am saved unlike so many others’, even as a silent conviction by a peace-loving believer, breeds an unhealthy sense of superiority. It appeals to the primordial sense of pride, not too dissimilar to the son who enjoys his father’s favoritism. Salvation creeds, by their very existence, heighten the thrilling feeling of being a favoured one of God, as well as a feeling of fearful prejudice towards ‘them others’ who have fallen out of favour, yet who may tempt me with their convincing talk to their damning ways. Well I say, “O ye of little faith”, whose faith is so easily shattered to pieces by the mere existence of alternative takes on life, man and God. True faith, if it really is true, is rather consolidated by the review of alternatives. Not weakened. While they are by no means the only factor behind mindless killing sprees at youth summer camps, particularistic creeds by their very existence, and the mere fact of their widespread adherence, lend powerful moral justification to the actions of the few who are prepared to go a step further — using violence for their promotion.

Small wonder that Bahá’u'lláh, who was severely persecuted for his Message of tolerance and unity, and imprisoned for 40 years in some of the most forbidding places, wrote:

“Consort with all religions with amity and concord. Beware lest amidst men the flame of foolish ignorance overpower you.”

“These mighty systems have proceeded from one Source, and are rays of one Light.”

“Religious fanaticism and hatred are a world-devouring fire.”

“Regard ye not one another as strangers. Ye are the fruits of one tree, and the leaves of one branch.”

 My sister in Norway posted this verse of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (the son of Bahá’u'lláh) on her Facebook profile one day after the attack:

“The most important teaching of Bahá’u'lláh is to leave behind racial, religious, national and patriotic prejudices. Until these prejudices are entirely removed mankind will not find rest. Nay, rather, discord and bloodshed will increase day by day.”

An Uzbek shepherd boy in Kabul

What’s with the sour face? After all in the West we pride ourselves in our “high” standard of living. Clean running water, electricity, modern amenities, and a general semblance of order and cleanliness are comfortable indeed. But has it all come at the expense of smiles? The kinds that are radiant and innocent rather than pretentious and pasted on the face. In the case of Finland, my native land, it can be honestly said that historical “development” and “modernization” has resulted in a high-tech information and welfare society of which the Finns, including yours truly, are genuinely proud of. And the nature is stunning too. But have all of these great benefits overthrown, in their wake, the richness of healthy cultural ways and values which used to provide the lives of historical Finns with profound meaning, purpose and a palpable sense of happiness. No, I’m not on some sanctimonious mission to glorify the bliss of poverty or to awaken the world’s rich to the evils of wealth. Neither am I suggesting that a society where everyone isn’t happily grinning every minute is deprived of all mirth and gaiety. Things don’t have to look Disney to be alright. But if the final fruit of “development” is really a grandmother living all alone in a comfortable inner-city apartment without any visitors, or an IT consultant with children going through a difficult divorce, is it ultimately worth the loss of a large, loud and closely-knit family that leads — in spite of material and social problems of various sorts – an essentially happy little life in a shoebox?

“Anybody can be happy in the state of comfort, ease, health, success, pleasure and joy; but if one will be happy and contented in the time of trouble, hardship and prevailing disease, it is the proof of nobility.” – ‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Out of all the 30 “developing” countries I’ve visited and worked in, Afghanistan stirred me to my depths. Regardless of ethnic background, gender or age, most Afghans display amazing fortitude, friendliness, entrepeneurship and hopefulness. The initially grim countenances of bearded men often enshroud an exceedingly polite gentleman whose child-like curiosity knows no bounds. Only a minority of Kabuli women wear the infamous burqa and, quite regardless of their choice of attire, often prove chatty, loud and even bossy epitomes of human survival. Behind the submissive masks of rural women lie cheerfully chattering exemplars of grit and tenacity that quickly resume their subservient roles in the presence of men. Depressed and downhearted faces remain a rarity although by Western reckoning virtually every Afghan ought to suffer from some sort of dire privation, lack, exploitation or oppression.

Afghan hospitality is historic. Families are large and lively. Family relations are tight and caring. Every friday families retire to crowded green parks for picnic and fellowship. Kite-flying children and youngsters abound both in towns and villages. Not only women and girls but also men are visibly child-loving and playful. While many Afghans have witnessed unspeakable crimes against humanity from their earliest childhood, they have time and again proven surprisingly gentle in demeanour, soulful, sensible and sobre-minded. Large families, great communal bonds, a brutal sense of humour and a strong faith in humane religious values have provided a stronghold for many, shielding them from complete psychological breakdown. Lesser traumas in “more developed” countries have driven scores for life-confinement in a mental institution.

What’s with the polished faces, the bleeched teeth and the seductive poses, if they lack heart and soul? The most gnarled face of a one-toothed grandpa shines with the beauty of Paradise Itself.

Whenever it is wreathed with a sincere smile.

“The light of a good character surpasseth the light of the sun and the radiance thereof. Whoso attaineth it is accounted as a jewel among men.” (Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh, Tarázát, p. 36)

“We spend our lives trying to unlock the mystery of the universe, but there was a prisoner in Akka, Palestine, who had the Key.”

- Leo Tolstoy, 1908

A prisoner once wrote to a queen. His hands were shaking. The trembling was not due to fear nor trepidation. The ill-effects of the poisoned food were to last until the end of his days. His stature was bent. Iron chains — equal to his body weight — had hunched him for life and cut into his flesh. He had borne their weight on his shoulders for four months some fifteen years earlier. But that was another land, another time, and another prison. His long black beard seemed untrimmed and his hackneyed face belied his age. At fifty-one he was younger than he looked. His worn body no longer bore any testimony to his silken youth as the favoured son of the Sháh’s venerated vizier. ‘Why did he not take up his father’s high office?’ ‘Why did he opt for humiliation when he could have soaked in the glory of the Sháh’s court?’, the courtiers once murmured.

But now his minister-father could not run to his aid from his grave, nor his royal ancestors rescue him from his plight. The Persian kings of old, to whom his family traced his ancestry, lay motionless in their majestic tombs. Their noble seed lay in house-arrest in Ottoman Turkey, awaiting a transfer order from the Sultan. The prisoner’s proximity to the great Caliph was a matter of concern to his ministers and the Persian ambassador.

The prisoner’s letter was delivered to Queen Alexandrina Victoria of Great Britain, the sovereign of the greatest empire the world had yet seen. The same message was also sent to Napoleon III of France, the most powerful ruler of his time. Yet the list of addressees was longer. It included Czar Alexander II of Russia, William I the Emperor of a unified Germany, Emperor Francis Joseph of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Sultan ‘Abdu’l-Azíz of the Ottoman Empire, Násiri’d-Dín Sháh of Persia and Pope Pius IX of the Papal States.

None of these potentates were strangers to letters from prisoners asking for royal pardon. But the Persian prisoner asked no such thing. Neither did he ask for favours.

He issued a warning.

Your people are your treasures. 

Do not rob them to rear palaces for yourselves;
nay rather choose for them that which ye choose for yourselves. 

Deal with them with undeviating justice,
so that none among them may either suffer want,
or be pampered with luxuries. This is but manifest justice. 

Be united, O Kings of the earth, for thereby will the tempest of discord be stilled amongst you, and your people find rest.

Should anyone among you take up arms against another, rise ye all against him, for this is naught but manifest justice. 

O ye the elected representatives of the people in every land! Take ye counsel together, and let your concern be only for that which profiteth mankind,
and bettereth the condition thereof. 

Regard ye the world as a man’s body, which is afflicted with divers ailments,
and the recovery of which dependeth upon the harmonizing of
all its component elements.

If ye pay no heed unto the counsels which … We have revealed in this Tablet, Divine chastisement shall assail you from every direction.

The year was 1869. The prisoner was Bahá’u'lláh.

I am a Bahá’í. This blog represents my modest attempt to introduce the Bahá’í Faith through life’s manifold hues and colours, and through my humble observations thereof.

“In the garden of thy heart plant naught but the rose of love.”

- Bahá’u'lláh